


One Word

by 29PiecesOfMe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Ending, Episode Tag, Fix-It, Gen, Hugs, Sad Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5796937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/29PiecesOfMe/pseuds/29PiecesOfMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One word was all it took. What took years to build could be leveled in only a second, for words held more power than all the might of Heaven or Hell. Chosen wisely, they could be used to coerce, to destroy, to build, or to change the course of destiny. Lucifer knew the power of words; they were his chosen weapon after all. But after everything, it only took one: yes. 11x10 alt end</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Word

It was a selfish, selfish thing that he was doing. 

There were times—not many, but some such as these—when Castiel almost wished he’d never fallen at all. Not because he didn’t believe in what he fought for. He believed with everything in him that he’d chosen the right side, he believed in the battle he fought. No, the problem was that the road he’d chosen had led him to a place where he could now feel, and feel intensely. 

Emotions, feelings, miniscule wounds that sliced tiny slivers of him away a bit at a time, whittling him down to a raw soul like he would have never experienced as an angel of the Lord. 

Tiny things that could wound, little matters that would have been above his notice once, he now experienced with full knowledge and recognition. 

He’d eaten of the fruit, and now his eyes were open. 

And it hurt.

Castiel shouldn’t have even cared about what Ambriel had said, about being expendable. When he was just a soldier in the garrison, it’d still been true, but he hadn’t cared. Soldiers were always expendable. That was why they were in the trenches. It hadn’t mattered, because emotions had been tamped down so strongly that he hadn’t even known how to feel. 

He shouldn’t have minded her words a bit. He shouldn’t have felt anything but relief when the Darkness gently grabbed him in her power and whispered so soothingly that he wasn’t even worth killing. 

He shouldn’t have felt anything but triumph when Dean ran to Sam, to protect his brother while Castiel was killed in their place. It bought them the necessary time, and that was what should have mattered. 

He shouldn’t have felt anything but resignation when the Devil’s claws captured him in their poisoned grip, his slithering whisper speaking of “last words”, promising an end to the torrent of feelings that were a byproduct of the humanity Castiel had joined. 

But Castiel did feel, and sometimes he wished he’d never been able to at all. Castiel was a soldier. He would have rather been killed outright then sliced away by a million words. 

And so, he was doing a selfish, selfish thing. 

It wasn’t that he thought Dean and Sam just didn’t care at all; Castiel was certain that they did. The way they cared about the car. The way they’d cared about the Colt. Maybe even the way they’d cared about Charlie. Castiel was even arrogant enough to believe they would miss him, and wish him back, but when it was down to the wire, he was expendable. No big loss. Not worth the effort. A bit used up. 

…”The other one”. 

A million and three words.

There were times—not many, but some such as these—when Castiel almost wished he’d never fallen at all, because now he was watching as Dean abandoned him to run to his brother, while Lucifer was about to kill Castiel. For the last time, but not the first, Castiel envied such a bond. He’d thought he might find something close to that brotherhood here, since it had been lost among the angels, but in that one moment he knew that Dean wouldn’t—couldn’t—feel the same for him as he did for Sam. 

But that should have been expected, if only Castiel hadn’t fallen to the point that he still believed in such things. 

The world was ending anyway. Lucifer was evil and would destroy everything if he could, but he could stop the Darkness. But now Castiel knew that afterward when it was down to the wire, the Winchesters would be able to destroy Lucifer again, because this time the only thing they would lose was him. 

And he was expendable. 

Lucifer must have been able to see all of this in his eyes, because the Devil still hadn’t struck, almost like he was waiting for the question, which the angel only now realized had always been inevitable. He suspected that he was playing right into Lucifer’s hands, but even that didn’t shake his faith in the Winchesters. When the time came, they would let him go.

“Can you really beat her?” 

Lucifer’s lips curled up in a smile, and Castiel could see that the Devil knew he’d won. Castiel wasn’t a hero, that was up to Dean and Sam, and even he knew that this was selfish, not brave. He wanted to do this… not because he felt any allegiance for Lucifer, but because he wanted Dean and Sam to be free. After this, it would be over. Lucifer would kill Amara, then the Winchesters would kill Lucifer, and Castiel, and it would all be over. This must have been his purpose all along, the reason God had kept bringing him back. There could be no other explanation, because by now Castiel was used up, worth roughly the same as a spare scrap of paper one might use to scribble a message on. 

He wanted to do this, and maybe when this was nothing more than a bad dream in a distant memory of existence, history would remember at least that he had been there, too. The “other one.” 

Yes, Castiel was selfish. But if this worked, then none of that really mattered anyway.

“Yes,” Lucifer answered, as his eyes gleamed. Castiel gave up. 

“Then-”

Two bodies slammed into the Devil, knocking Lucifer away from him. Castiel blinked, staring in shock as he realized that Sam was crouched beside him, tugging at his sleeve in an experiment of futility. 

“Cas, get up!” Sam begged, sounding terrified. “Please, get up!” 

“Cas?!” Dean shouted over his shoulder; the angel’s fallen blade was in his hand, extended towards Lucifer as he scrambled back, covering them both with his own body. “Hold on! It’s almost over!” 

“Step aside, Dean!” 

Lucifer’s voice held so much ice that Castiel shivered, iced barbs flooding his veins with painful throbs. The angel felt a flicker of fear as Dean shifted.

“No. You will never… ever hurt my family again. Not Sam, not Cas. You’re finished, you got that, you sack of-”

Dean was thrown aside, hitting the side of the cage with a groan. Sam yelled in outrage, twitching as though he was about to run to him, but Lucifer raised both his hands—one pointed at Dean, the other at Castiel. The Devil’s smile returned, filled with rage.

“You can’t save them both, Sammy,” he pointed out with a shrug. “I’m going to kill at least one of them. Probably both,” he admitted. “I just want to see which one you try to save. Well, no, I already know which one you’ll try to save. Okay, I admit, I just want Castiel to see you leave him, and know the truth… he doesn’t matter.” 

He doesn’t matter.

Castiel was already prepared for that, though, already broken by a million and six words, and that was why he thought he was mishearing things when Sam softly ground out, 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“No. He does matter. I’d never leave Cas. Just like I’d never leave Dean. You lose.” 

Lucifer and Castiel both stared at Sam, but on his other side, Dean was snorting in sharp laughter. “You really are dumb as a box of rocks,” the older hunter said, right to the Devil’s face. “You’ve never figured out this whole “family” thing, you still don’t get it. Me and Sammy and Cas… we’re a package deal. You’ll have to kill all three of us, ‘cause there’s no way you’re getting out of this cage.” 

Castiel could see it in Lucifer’s eyes, as the last stray slip of sanity dissolved away. His heart was hammering, but not from fear. He’d already counted on death, so that was far from his concern; no, he was filled with confusion, uncertainty, as everything he thought he understood tilted. Since when did they think of him like that? Or was it just to spite the Devil? 

It didn’t matter, because Castiel recognized the expression on Lucifer’s face, knew he was about to strike, but his hands were no longer directed at him, but at Sam and Dean. And why not? Castiel had already given in, so Lucifer didn’t need either of the Winchesters. He was going to kill them, but the angel had to prevent that at all costs, because the world still needed Sam and Dean Winchester. 

And, because Castiel was selfish… and he needed Sam and Dean Winchester. 

What strength was left in his used up form, Castiel channeled into one single movement, throwing himself at Sam, who in turn collided with Dean, all three of them falling in a heap with Castiel’s arms wrapped around them both to shield them from Lucifer’s smiting fury. 

Light flared up in the cage, so white hot that even Castiel kept his eyes closed. He held Dean and Sam tightly, praying that his angelic presence would be enough to protect them, that only he would be killed. Somewhere deep inside, Castiel prepared to let go.

The light faded.

He wasn’t dead. 

Why wasn’t he dead? Castiel opened his eyes, looking over his shoulder in expectation of seeing Lucifer still looming over them, but his brother was nowhere to be found. Rowena… the spell. She must have finished it. Castiel slumped; Lucifer was back in his Cage, and now the angel had lost his chance to provide the Winchesters with a way to destroy the Darkness without having to risk Sam. 

“Dean, Sam,” he said, voice gravelly with disappointment and relief. “Are you alright?” 

The angel pulled back, climbing to his feet as the boys both shifted painfully to roll over and look up at him with wide eyes. Blood trickled from various wounds, so Castiel helpfully leaned over to press two fingers against either of their foreheads, cleaning them up in an instant. 

“What the hell was that?” Dean asked, clutching his side to catch his breath as he too struggled to his feet. Castiel frowned and shook his head. 

“What was-”

“What the hell were you doing?” the older hunter cut him off, shouting now as something like panic flashed in his eyes. “Were you about to say yes?! Tell me I was hearing things, or something! What were you doing, Cas?!” 

“Why would you do it?” Sam’s voice was softer than Dean’s, but bewildered and scared. Castiel looked from one face to the other, uncertain. Why would they even have to ask?

“The Darkness must be destroyed,” he reminded them, pulling aside his shirt to show them the message she had left, once again. “Lucifer is evil, but he could have stopped her. He could have-”

“-KILLED you!” Dean shouted. The hunter strode forward and grabbed Castiel’s upper arms, giving the angel a shake. “Damn it, Cas! What if we hadn’t stopped it?! What if you’d said yes, huh? What if he’d worn you out of here, and killed Amara, THEN what?!” 

Castiel stared at Dean, frowning. “Then I would have only needed one second of control,” he answered. “Just one moment, and you two could have killed us-”

“We WHAT?!” 

Why did Dean sound so horrified? Yes, it would have been unpleasant, but at least it wouldn’t have been Sam. Castiel looked away, but his gaze caught the younger hunter’s instead, who seemed no less stunned. Sam slowly shook his head.

“How could you even think- Cas, do you actually believe what Lucifer was saying? About… us not needing…?” 

Castiel shrugged. “I help.” 

“You h-” Dean cut off, and his grip on the angel tightened. The hunter wavered. “You damn son of a bitch. Don’t you ever- you can’t just- damn you, you’re one of us, Cas. Don’t you get that? Are you that friggin’ blind?” 

“Or…” Sam had stepped forward now, giving Castiel a sideways look with guilt tight in his features. “…have we done that bad of a job at showing you that?” 

This seemed to give Dean pause, for he let go and stepped back, and his horror, if possible, multiplied. The hunter swore, running a hand through his hair and glancing away as though that would keep Castiel from seeing what strangely seemed like tears. But Dean was just stressed, having almost lost Sam, that was surely all. 

“I am… expendable,” Castiel said, soft and serious. “I’m used up. You mean well, both of you… but everyone seems to know it, not just me.”

“Then they don’t know SQUAT!” 

“Did we really make you feel that way, Cas?” Sam sounded so ashamed that Castiel winced. He hadn’t meant for them to be hurt by this. 

“We should get back,” he pointed out, avoiding the question. “Crowley and Rowena will be-”

“Cas, wait.”

The angel paused; Dean’s voice was so heavy, so guilty, weighted with the truth of what Castiel’s avoidance meant. When the hunter finally looked back up at him, Castiel could see him burning with intensity, and he waited. 

“I’m sorry.” Dean shook his head. “I’m sorry we never… you know, made you feel like… like what you are. You’re one of us, too. Damn it, if Lucifer had rode you out of here, the world would be screwed, man!” 

“We couldn’t have pulled the trigger,” Sam explained with a hollow, haunted look. “Cas, we couldn’t have killed you, not even to kill Lucifer. You’ve never been expendable.” 

“You know we weren’t just blowing smoke back there,” added Dean. “Please, please, Cas, just give us a chance to prove it. God, if I’d known you felt-” 

He broke off, looking away. Castiel didn’t know what to think, and once again his emotions were making everything harder to sift through. He wanted to believe. But he’d also wanted to believe in his own family, the brothers and sisters who—after he’d tried so hard to help—could find nothing nicer to say of him than that he killed angels.

But then… Dean and Sam had fought for him.

Castiel looked between them both, wishing he could stop the hope from building that would probably just come crashing down at some point, with a million and seven or eight words. And yet…

“So, what you said to Lucifer… about…” Castiel eyed the brothers, clearing his throat. “You… you meant it? The… the package deal thing, the not… leaving?” 

As one, the two nodded in one sharp, affirmative movement, both declaring, “Yes.” 

A million and six words had whittled Castiel down to nothing. 

One had been enough to turn the tide. 

Yes. 

Castiel took a deep breath, glad that he had chosen the path that would enable him to feel, because though Heaven was home, it was also a lonely place that had never filled his heart with the same belonging as the acceptance of a family. Not that the angel was sold completely, but if they wanted a chance, Castiel wanted the same. 

Like with all angels… one word was all he’d needed.

Turning his head to hide the awkward smile, Castiel nodded. He was no longer sure how they were supposed to stop Amara now, but he had faith in the Winchesters. They would figure it out and he would help. 

Or… maybe they would all figure it out together.


End file.
